


a proposal

by staticpetrichor



Series: ACOTAR prompts [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Fluff, F/M, Modern Era, fluff with an angsty ending, you've been warneddddd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticpetrichor/pseuds/staticpetrichor
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: ACOTAR prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429963
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	a proposal

He had bought the ring a month after they started dating. It was foolhardy, and most definitely moving too fast, but he’d done it all the same. Rhysand had been high off a heady sort of emotion, something born of a long night entwined with his lover and the crazed adrenaline of whispering their very first “I love you’s”.

And now all he can remember thinking is, _please God don’t let this feeling stop._

So he’d done what any mildly intoxicated, smitten, twenty-something would do. He’d bought a ring. A pretty intricate thing. Overlapping diamond and topaz, the color they made so like Feyre’s eyes he hadn’t looked at another one, inlaid in a twisting gold and silver band. But he hadn’t returned to her apartment and got down on one knee. No, he wasn’t completely insane. He knew they needed more time. 

So, Rhysand and the ring grew very familiar over the next six months. It weighed the pocket of his jacket down damn near everywhere he went. He hated leaving it at home, as if the perfect opportunity to propose was some elusive creature he needed to forever be on the lookout for. Like it was something to be captured. 

But now, as he prepared for the night when the ring would hopefully leave his care for good, Rhys found that he was going to miss the dark chocolate velvet box, just as he would miss the stupid drunk boy who’d had the balls to buy it in the first place. 

He ran his hands over the lapels of his suit, smoothing it flat against his chest and ignoring the flutter of anticipation in his stomach. It wasn’t anything big, just dinner at their favorite restaurant. They went to Rita’s frequently enough that Feyre wouldn’t suspect a thing. Rhys hadn’t invited anyone else, knowing how she felt about crowds of people and privacy. He’d heard enough rants about how “some things don’t _need_ to be _shouted_ from the rooftops” to be certain that this was what she would want. 

And none of that logic did a thing to sway the lump in his throat, to stop the sweat from gathering in his palms. Rhysand didn’t have a single doubt that Feyre was the woman he was meant to spend his life with. If soulmates existed she was his, because nobody else understood him so well. 

And he knew, he knew that he wasn’t an easy person to love. That there were broken bits of him that might always be there. But Feyre had taken all of them in a stride as he had hers. 

There wasn’t another person on this planet that could ever make him feel like she did.

Loved and respected, happy and _complete._

Rhys had never understood the meaning of that word until now. 

And that was exactly why, when he walked out of the restaurant bathroom, he was not afraid. 

⁂

When he saw her sitting at their table, wrapped in a black and purple lace cocktail dress, Rhys swore his heart stumbled.

They’d driven separately at his urging; he wasn’t positive he could’ve kept his nerves to himself with Feyre’s keen eyes watching. But he almost regrets it when he realizes he could’ve helped her zip up the back, could’ve let his fingertips skim over the tattoo decorating her spine, would’ve leaned in and dropped a kiss on the soft bit of skin where shoulder met neck. 

He sighed softly and forced a lazy smirk to his mouth. After all he would have plenty of time to kiss every inch of her tonight. All he had to do was make it through one meal.

She smiled at him as he sat, teeth flashing against those soft maroon lips, “You look particularly handsome tonight.”

“I do, don’t I?”

Feyre shook her head in mock outrage, brown curls brushing against her cheek with the movement.

“Darling?”

“Mmm?”

“You look absolutely stunning, utterly ravishing in fact.” 

“That’s not an awful save.” She chuckled softly, propping her head on a hand and once again reminding him how very lucky he was. 

“I have more. Honestly it’s an endless supply of compliments when it comes to you.”

“Eck see now you’ve made it disgusting, sappiness ruins the moment.”

“I think you meant ‘saves’.” Rhys quipped back as his hands drummed lightly on the table, he was sure Feyre had already ordered their regulars if the lack of menus meant anything, which meant in less than an hour’s time she would finally see her ring. 

“Sometimes I wonder how it is you haven’t been in more fistfights.” 

“Are you saying- excuse me I have been in a _perfect_ amount of fistfights-” 

Just like that the easy banter pulled him under, soothed any anxiety and left him with an almost giddy feeling of content. 

It doesn’t last. But in the end nothing does, and when Feyre smeared whip cream from the chocolate pudding onto the tip of her delicate nose Rhys couldn’t help himself, couldn’t wait another second even if he’s a laughing mess. Dropping to one knee beside her chair and opening the box, he finally said the five words that had consumed him for so very long.

“Will you marry me, Feyre?” 

It was shock, that froze her face. That made her lips part and tears fill up those stunning eyes. But the shock vanished as quickly as it came, leaving behind something horrifyingly empty and wrong and _no no no._

_Oh God what did he say wrong, what did he do?_

Feyre’s hand clamped over her mouth as a gasping sob drew the handful of patrons in their direction, and all Rhys knew was that he’d fucked up. Somehow.

“Rhys, no, can we- can we talk at home this isn’t how- I’m sorry, I don’t want, _this,_ I can’t-” He doesn’t hear what she said after that, can’t hear much of anything.

_She doesn’t want this. Not the ring or the name, and definitely not you._

⁂

Hours later, after Feyre had left with a hastily packed bag and so many apologies that Rhys had finally asked her to please stop, had told her she didn’t need to apologize because she hadn’t done anything wrong, it wasn’t her fault she didn’t want to settle down, or that she was going to stay with family until they figured out who would stay in the apartment, he sat on the edge of their bed and cupped the little box in between his hands. 

It was soft and warm and perfectly intact. Untouched by the night’s events and Rhys would’ve done just about anything to trade places with it. 

His chest ached dully, but besides that he was blessedly numb. He didn’t even realize he was crying until a droplet stained the velvet, then another, and another. 

⁂

Rhysand ended up holding onto the ring for a lot longer than he intended. It stayed there in his pocket, a now familiar weight, a bittersweet snippet of a memory that’s true pain had since faded with time. 

He never did blame Feyre for leaving. 

Even tried to move on as she had, but every date was wrong, nobody’s laugh could ever outshine hers, not a single person could outwit him or knock him on his ass like she always had.

And in the end, it surprised no one when Cassian and Azriel buried their brother with a women’s size 7 engagement ring in the breast pocket of his suit. 


End file.
